


If Armageddon can’t stop em’ what will?

by stagsnqueens



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale comforts Crowley, Aziraphale's Bookshop, Comfort, Confessing love, Crowley comforts Aziraphale, Drunk Aziraphale, Hurt Crowley, I’m bad at punctuation, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Other, Pining, Protective Crowley, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), aziraphale struggles with emotions, because I’m a lazy shit with too much stuff to get done, but it’s readable, hes protective too at some point I imagine, ineffable husbands, more tags will be added when appropriate, mostly fluff unless I grow a backbone, no beta we die like men, one shots, or ability, so does Crowley but he does it quietly, the gays reign supreme in all honesty, you gave me Crowley pining for 6000 years and I countered Aziraphale pining for 6000 years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stagsnqueens/pseuds/stagsnqueens
Summary: A collection of one-shots for the ineffable husbands themselves, they are the dumbest but I’m literally in love. I don’t know how many they’ll be, stick around and find out I guess.





	1. Firsts and Fires

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley is a little haunted by past events and Aziraphale is there to comfort him. 
> 
> Or 
> 
> Crowley is emotionally inept and Aziraphale isn’t much better either.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is a little haunted by past events and Aziraphale is there to comfort him.
> 
> Or
> 
> Crowley is emotionally inept and Aziraphale isn’t much better either.

_ London _

_ 2019 _

 

“Angel?” 

 

It was soft at first and Aziraphale was certain he could’ve imagined it but offered a polite hum in return. As it was, most definitely, the polite thing to do.

 

“Angel.”

 

Louder now, and without the imposition of a question behind it. Aziraphale looked up to meet Crowley’s eyes, burning with that yellow he always seemed to miss.

 

“Sorry” Aziraphale returns, closing his book “I was far too engrossed” he wasn’t, he had read the book countless times but found it easier to read than the Demons stoic silence. It was far too easy to see when Crowley wasn’t happy, especially minus his glasses, and Aziraphale didn’t like it one bit. 

 

“I was asking if you had any alcohol” he groused, seemingly not meaning too.

 

“Of course” Aziraphale smiled brightly “what would you like, dear?” The expression, as always, seemed to warm the demon slightly. Which warmed the angel in turn. The fire crackled in Aziraphale’s fireplace and the angel noticed Crowley flinch, something that never ever happened*.

 

*beside that one time in France 1206 involving two cats and six monks. 

 

Aziraphale stood himself up and wandered toward his collection of wines, and scotch for Crowley. The demon huffed, something that seemed to imply he didn’t care, so Aziraphale chose the scotch. Crowley liked that best. 

 

“Thanks” Crowley took the glass stiffly, he usually draped himself over every possible surface but now remained like some sort of stick insect*. But the more Aziraphale looked, the more he saw; he was shivering sweating and his eyes were blown wider than usual. It was worrying. 

 

*most likely a dead one, because he was extra still. 

 

“Crowley” Aziraphale started “is something bothering you?” He kept his eyes on the Demon before him, fearing he’d disappear or turn into a snake. 

 

“No” Crowley shifted in his seat, crawling within himself a little. 

 

“Forgive me, But I don’t believe you” he kept his eyes locked on the demon, shifting slightly to face Crowley head on.

 

“Well, you should” Crowley huffed, narrowing his eyes for a moment. Aziraphale often thought about those eyes, one of his most favourite things about the demon before him. 

 

“Crowley—“ 

 

“Angel, would you leave it alone?” Crowley hissed, stunning Aziraphale a little. He was used to the Demon being, well, a demon—but it still stung. He tried not to huff too loudly, and slumped back into his seat with a book. A few moments passed before Crowley shuffled. Aziraphale ignored the movement in front of him, instead focusing on the first edition ‘Alice in wonderland’ nestled in his lap.

 

“Angel” Crowley sounded a little whiny, or sad, Aziraphale couldn’t tell. But he didn’t reply, biting his cheek to stop any words from slipping out.

 

“Angeell” the demon tried again, and it was most definitely a whine “Angel I’m sorry”, Aziraphale looked up at this. An apology was not an often admittance from the demon, Aziraphale had to fight a smile. But upon seeing Crowley’s face the need to smile quickly disappeared.

 

“Crowley, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale tried again, meeting the demons very sad eyes (they may have also been scared but Aziraphale didn’t have time to wonder). 

 

Crowley’s eyes shifted to the fireplace, then back to his Angel then to the fireplace again, “could you put it out?” 

 

“Put it out—the fire?” His brows furrowed it confusion “you’ll freeze, dear”, the angel watched the demon grip his scotch glass.

 

“Please” Crowley refused to meet Aziraphale’s eyes “just—Please”, 

 

“Okay” Aziraphale nodded warily “but I’m getting you a blanket, stubborn demon” he tutted, mostly to himself, as he got up to put out the fire. It didn’t particularly bother him, angels ran hot, but his Demon was a snake-cold blood and all. He had no idea why Crowley would want heat he usually relished, to disappear.

 

“Thank you, angel” Crowley mumbles as he sees the fire fizzle away. 

 

“Really, you are so difficult sometimes” Aziraphale chided and he searched for a blanket to give the Demon “I know your a demon but you don’t have to—“ he turned and abruptly stopped talking as he slammed into the aforementioned demon.

 

Aziraphale all but froze as Crowley wrapped him in a hug, one arm pawing at the angels waist and the other tight around his shoulders.

 

“Hug me back” Crowley croaked into Aziraphale’s neck “please”, 

 

“Of course” Aziraphale nodded a little sheepishly, he cannot place a time the pair had hugged before, “sorry” he pulled his arms up and wrapped them around Crowley’s sharp sides, relishing in the cool breeze that was his demon. He shifted his head a little and felt a flutter in his stomach when Crowley’s head followed suit, determined to stay nuzzled in the crook of his neck. He could smell the bonfire sort of smell that accompanied the angel to almost choking intensity and found himself wanting to fall into it.

 

“I do wish” Aziraphale spoke after a long moment of silence, just the steady and un-needed breaths of both beings “you would tell me what’s bothering you”. 

 

“The fire” Crowley mumbled “I lost you in a fire” his grip on Aziraphale tightened and the angel squeezed back.

 

“Oh Crowley” Aziraphale softened into the hug a little more, his hand found its way (inexplicably) to the demons hair “I’m here now, soppy thing” he spoke with an endearment he felt deep in his soul.

 

“But your so—what if you went to sleep and left it on or—it caught your stupid long coat—or something” Crowley grumbled, clutching the angel ever closer.

 

A moment passed before Aziraphale spoke again “do you really think my coat is stupid?” He felt stupid for asking but he wore the same thing everyday and had to be sure Crowley hadn’t hated it all that time. The demon pulled away, he was smiling now and Aziraphale relaxed. 

 

Crowley, very delicately, took hold of his angels face “no, it’s a brilliant coat”. Aziraphale found his breath catching as Crowley’s thumb stroked across cheekbone “your softer than I’d imagined” Crowley contemplates mostly to himself but delights in the giddy smile pawing over his angels face. 

 

“Have you imagined often?” Aziraphale asks, fighting off his better nature with the help of Crowley’s hands on his face. The demon seems to be studying him like he was something he hadn’t seen before. 

 

“Too often to recount” Crowley speaks without realising and wanted to run away before he felt Aziraphale’s hands tighten back around his waist. Crowley continued to study his angel, feeling that the time for playing it cool left when he entered the bookshop four hours ago. He had found Aziraphale’s hair some time ago and laced his fingers though the pearly locks, the sting of electricity was something he could deal with for even the chance to touch the angel before him. 

 

“You must be getting cold” Aziraphale’s voice was a little hoarse, it filled Crowley’s stomach with butterflies.

 

“I don’t mind” the demon twisted a lock of Aziraphale’s hair around his finger before holding his face once more with a contented hum “bedsides your warm enough”. 

 

“I don’t think we could stay like this all evening” Aziraphale laughed a little, wishing very much that they could stay like that all evening. 

 

“Couldn’t we?” Crowley questioned 

 

“Well—Perhaps, But I was hoping to take you to have breakfast tomorrow” it was the angels turn to study the other, Crowley’s expression pulsed with a smile causing his eyes to form a squint. Aziraphale couldn’t help himself and brought a hand upwards to trace the lines that smiling buried in the demons face, “you know, dear boy, I’ve never imagined how cold you felt” he laughed a little. It was like touching an ice cube, and Aziraphale wanted to melt as quick as he could manage too. 

 

“Is it a bad thing?” Crowley felt a sudden, disgusting, thrum of insecurity. 

 

“Of course not” Aziraphale scoffed, as if the idea was the most Abhorrent he’d ever heard, and it was. “No it’s—lovely”,

 

“Lovely” Crowley looked up with a grin “I’ve never heard that one before”.

 

“Well I don’t know why not” Aziraphale smiled up at the demon before him. It hurt Crowley somewhere deep down, it hurt him to look at those eyes and that face and that hair. 

 

Then, suddenly but not at all unpredictably (to anyone else but the two idiots there anyway), Crowley’s lips crashed into the angels. He delighted in the little hum of surprise that fell from Aziraphale. His lips were the most exquisite thing Crowley had ever tasted, and at request of the angel he had tasted so many things. 

 

Aziraphale praised the fact Crowley’s eyes were closed as his were blown wide in surprise. The demon tasted deliciously of everything and nothing all at once. He found his lips sunk into Crowley’s with undeniable ease and wondered why he hadn’t tried it sooner.

 

They pulled apart, and Crowley barely suppressed a whine of loss. 

 

Aziraphale gripped onto Crowley’s jacket lapels, gravity was threatening to pull him very steadily toward the ground, as the demon held his waist a little desperately.

 

“Was—is that-was that okay?” Crowley fought the urge to disappear and not return for as long as he could manage.

 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could speak, so he pulled Crowley towards him. Crowley let a High pitch groan pull from his lips as his angel crashed into them. Aziraphale quickly understood why humans took so much joy in kisses, he liked this one very much. Crowley pawed at the Angel in front of him, a desperate attempt to pull Aziraphale closer as his lips fell away. 

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time” he spoke softly, watching the demons eyes flick around his face.

 

“Why didn’t you?” Crowley knew he sounded desperate and fought the need to care. He had loved the angel since, in hindsight, the beginning. It was within his right to be miffed that Aziraphale hadn’t done anything sooner, not that he could be miffed for long. 

 

“I’m unsure, i didn’t know how you would feel if I did” Aziraphale counted the many times Crowley’s lips had looked the very definition of temptation, and the many times he had resisted in typical angel fashion.

 

“I’ve wanted you to kiss me for 6000 years, Angel” Crowley studied the surprise and affection flooding Aziraphale’s eyes.

 

And so he did, again and then again and then again, again...he’s probably still doing it. 

 

 


	2. Dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale finds Crowley in a new bar, they eat pastries and ice cream.
> 
> Or 
> 
> In which Aziraphale is flustered, in love and really really very much wanting to dance with his demon.

_ NewYork _

_ 1987 _

 

America was a decidedly large place, a huge expanse of land with no intention of getting any smaller. So why, Aziraphale thought, was Crowley right there. 

 

The late 80’s, perhaps not one of Aziraphale’s favourites but by no means was it bad. He enjoyed some of the music, sometimes, and he liked some of the fashion—though did prefer his suits. 

 

He had heard about the little bar a few weeks ago, specialising in just desserts. He had made a decisive plan to go then and there, so why? (Why god? Are you there? Are you listening! Why?!) was Crowley there. 

 

It wasn’t that Aziraphale didn’t  want to see Crowley, he wanted it more than anything, it was that whenever he did-he never wanted to stop. The demon, he had only recently, begun to call a good friend was one of his most favourite things. Being around Crowley filled the angel with more than his fair share of that buzzing, warm feeling in his stomach. His head tended to spin and he felt awfully flustered. As uncomfortable as that whole debacle was, it was worth it-and it was beautiful. 

 

Crowley was beautiful. 

 

He saw it on that very first day they met, he was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen-and he had seen thousands of gods creations over the past few days. It would be blasphemy to proclaim the demon next to him as more gorgeous but a part of him wanted too so very desperately. 

 

It was the hair he first noticed, and the hair he first noticed now in the present, long and curly and so bright. Then it was the eyes, they burrowed somewhere deep inside Aziraphale and never left. Then his smile, that deep rooted, eye crinkling, infectious smile. And Oh, how Aziraphale coverts that smile. It burst into his stomach and twisted it, caused his own lips to quirk and commited itself to memory within an instant. He loved it. 

 

He loved Crowley. 

 

And that was the problem, the big stupid in the way stupid problem, that Aziraphale couldn’t fix. He tried, he really  really tried. He ignored him, for as long as he could stand which typically wasn’t long. He prayed, and got nothing back. He thought about the demon rejecting him, his feelings didn’t sway, and he resigned himself to never getting close enough to even begin the rejection . 

 

Never even being close enough to touch . 

 

It would burn, he thinks, and he wouldn’t care. Well, he would care for Crowley’s burning of course. Which is why he never tried, not a touch of the shoulder, not a brush of fingers, not a breath too close. 

 

Yes, Aziraphale had resigned himself to nothing an awfully long time ago. 

 

“Aziraphale, That you?” The demons voice cuts through his thoughts smoothly, head turning, ginger hair pulled up into a messy sort of fringe cut—those curls were back. 

 

“Y-yes” Aziraphale returns a little hollowly “Crowley, lovely to see you” he can’t help it, he can’t help smiling so wide he could feel his eyes ache. 

 

“Come, come—have a drink” he must be drunk, Aziraphale couldn’t remember a welcome this Merry in a while. Although the demon was never displeased to see him—it was usually the other way round. And out of fear more than anything, fear he’d do something stupid and embarrass himself-and all of heaven. 

 

“I—yes” Aziraphale nodded, very much unable to say no to the demon “yes”. 

 

He sidled next to Crowley, senses filling up all to quickly with the demon. The smell of bonfires and whatever lovely cologne he’s wearing these days. The hair, oh the hair, it was so soft looking and so curly—and so decidedly eighties (But he didn’t mind).

 

“Fancy seeing you here” Crowley spared him a glance, yellow eyes tipping over his aviators “angel” the word sent a very definite  buzz down Aziraphale’s spine.

 

“I could say the same to you” Aziraphale returned, watching Crowleys fingers fiddle with his glass of scotch. Long, slender fingers with black painted nails. 

 

“Oh me” Crowley rolled his head to the side “I’ve been tempting, priests and whatnot—a few miracles” He gleamed, Aziraphale swallowed upon mention of the  arrangement .

 

“Ah. Yes” Aziraphale nodded 

 

“So, what can I tempt you with?” Crowley, very thankfully, changed the subject. 

 

“Oh I—“ Aziraphale smiled, and laughed a little breathy laugh “what are you drinking?”,

 

Scotch .

 

“Scotch” Crowley spun the amber liquid around disinterestedly “are you partaking?” He grins, he grins and Aziraphale’s knees wobble. 

 

“Yes,” he smiles, trying not too “Why not”,

 

“Probably too many reasons why not, angel” Crowley nods to the bartender who nods back and pours two more scotches “anyway, what brings you here?”. 

 

“Well I—I heard about the desserts” Aziraphale grins, mind drifting comfortably to the advert he’d seen a few weeks prior “they look divine”, 

 

Crowley’s face twists at the word before he turns to Aziraphale “I’ll get the drinks, you get the food?” His brows raise beneath his glasses and Aziraphale knows, he truly does know, he shouldn’t agree. But he does, with a smile. 

 

They now sat at the bar; an odd looking gentleman in a cream suit, and a tall Freddy Mercury sort with ginger hair-drinking scotch and eating a selection of pastries and ice cream—talking about whose idea microwaves were. 

 

“Not ours” Crowley nodded, slurring slightly “I’d know, I would’ve taken credit” 

 

“Well they’re not us” Aziraphale defended “ghastly things” He tutted, rolling the scotch around in his glass,

 

“Humans then” Crowley leant back in his chair, turning towards Aziraphale “very clever, humans” he grinned and Aziraphale’s heart jumped.

 

“Very clever” Aziraphale agreed, “not particularly nice though, don’t you think?” 

 

“Well, no ones perfect” Crowley nodded towards the bartender again “but they are pushing it these days-even for a demon” 

 

“I’m surprised” Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eyes, wide beneath his glasses,

 

“I may be a demon, angel, but I don’t condone hate crimes” Crowley’s voice dropped for a moment, twisting Aziraphale’s stomach into a not. 

 

“No—I know, I’m sorry” he nodded, offering a small smile and hoping (praying) the demon would stay sat there.

 

“Another?” Crowley offered, Aziraphale found himself smiling,

 

“Yes, thank you”. 

 

“What have you been doing since I last saw you?” Crowley asked a few minutes later, glasses falling a little askew on his face. 

 

“Well I—some miracles and some” he paused “not miracles” Aziraphale wrapped his hands within themselves nervously “the shops been busy”,

 

“That’s good” Crowley turned to him, pulling off his glasses and studying the angel. Aziraphale’s breath caught very harshly in his throat, his heart clenched and his head swum with,,,something. 

 

Those eyes, those beautiful yellow eyes .

 

“Yes. Quite” Aziraphale nodded, 

 

“You alright, angel?” Crowley’s eyes squinted up at him, brows pulled together, 

 

“Perfectly, why?” Aziraphale swallowed,

 

“Your—well your doing that thing you do, with your Hands” Crowley inspected the well manicured fingers wrapping around and back around Aziraphale’s wrist,

 

“Thing, thing-what thing?” Aziraphale looked down “oh” he smiled a little sheepishly and ceased the movement. 

 

“You only do that when your nervous” the demon commented and Aziraphale couldn’t deny the little heady feeling being noticed like that gave him.

 

“Well I—I’m fine” Aziraphale brushes him off with a laugh, staring at his scotch. 

 

Aziraphale took a bite of ice cream-relatively cooling against Crowley’s stare,

“Oh—you have to try this” he implored, the delicious taste overtaking his flushing cheeks and caught breath. 

 

“What is it?” Crowley eyed the offending bowl before taking Aziraphale’s spoon and digging into the ice cream “oh” his eyes widened “oh that’s—good” he all but moaned, Aziraphale’s heart stopped. 

 

“Honeycomb and mint” Aziraphale grinned “a fantastic combination”, 

 

“Who comes up with this stuff” Crowley took another bite “it’s delicious”,

 

“Quite” Aziraphale gleamed, enjoying the smile overtaking Crowley’s face.

 

Crowley finished his ice cream, amongst multiple glasses of scotch and buying Aziraphale multiple glasses of wine. The music, previously upbeat (so up-beat Aziraphale had to miracle a lower volume) began to shift all of a sudden. It was soft and slow, swaying through the bar and Aziraphale found himself a little lost in it. 

 

“Come on then angel,” Crowley startled Aziraphale out of his thoughts “a dance?” 

 

Aziraphale’s heart stuttered in his chest, he looked up to meet Crowley’s eyes and nerve wracking grin, “Crowley, It’s 1986 we-we can’t dance together” he scoffed, breath becoming all too thin for the room they were in.

 

“Look around angel” Crowley’s voice was soft, his smile relaxing into his face, 

 

Aziraphale turned his gaze to the bar around him “Oh” the angels mouth fell agape, there seemed to be only young men in the room; some hunched into corners, silly smiles on their faces or sitting in stiff stillness. Some were dancing, swaying to the music, heads close and arms pulled around each other. Some seemed heavy with the fear of what will happen outside the doors, some seemed defiant to it all. 

 

Aziraphale couldn’t deny the want to be so close to the demon, head leant against his chest, hands pulled around him, fingers interlaced. The thought filled his body with unparalleled warmth, but unrelenting fear.

 

“We would burn” Aziraphale croaked, unable to meet Crowley’s gaze “or melt-or worse” he fiddled with his scotch glass, before fiddling with his own hands again. A much safer venture that didn’t remind him of the demon. 

 

“Doubt it” Crowley hesitates for a moment before wrapping his hand around the angels “see” he smiles smugly as Aziraphale meets his gaze. 

 

“Wh—“ the angel grasps onto Crowley’s hand Quicker and more desperately that he’d hoped “how?”, Crowley felt cold, like ice beneath his skin, but he didn’t care. It was more than beautiful.

 

“Does it matter?” Crowley grinned, hoisting Aziraphale up. He had to suppress a yelp as he flew upwards, alcohol spinning him a little towards the demon who held him upright, “You alright, angel?” He grinned, a grin that settled somewhere in Aziraphale’s chest, curled up and went to sleep there. 

 

“Perfectly” Aziraphale managed, his hand intertwined quite securely into Crowley’s.

 

“So, a dance?” Crowley twisted his arm so he could pull the angel towards the other people dancing, a few slow moving couples the demon had been eyeing and envying for the whole evening “I promise not to go too fast”,

 

“Y-yes” Aziraphale nodded, just the thought of his demon wrapped around him was something he desperately wanted to feel.

 

Crowley led him forwards, Aziraphale tried very hard not to collapse, pulling him close as they stopped. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s chest on his, felt the demons arm around his waist and hand on his own. Despite living there for a serious amount of time, being this close to Crowley was the most heavenly he’d ever felt. His hands fell annoying limp to his sides in his panic, eyes blown wide, hand anchoring him to Crowley. 

 

“Up here, angel” Crowley’s voice was soothing, it was soft and warm and buzzed in Aziraphale’s head, he unlocked their hands-Aziraphale struggled not to whimper at the loss-and pulled Aziraphale’s arm around his neck. The angel took note and brought his other arm to meet it. Crowley smiled down at him and Aziraphale’s heart threatened to burst from his chest. Then he felt both of Crowley’s arms on his waist, supportive and strong and  right , 

 

“You know, I thought you danced” Crowley hummed, “were you lying?” He gleamed 

 

“Of course not” Aziraphale tried to sound righteous (or something) but it was hard in the arms of his demon “I’ve never-danced like this before” his voice was shakier than he wanted, not a moment after he noticed this Crowley’s thumb began to rub soft semi-circles into his waist. 

 

“Oh yes, your gavotte” Crowley smirked, his eyes flicking teasingly over Aziraphale’s face, bringing the angels cheeks to a new shade of pink.

 

“I’ll have you know the gavotte—“ 

 

“I’m kidding angel” Crowley smiled sweetly, Aziraphale felt himself being pulled ever closer and his breath caught “I’d love to see you gavotte one day”,

 

“Well—well I-“ Aziraphale shifted his eyes from Crowley to the wall to Crowley again,

 

“Relax” Crowley all but cooed “Relax angel” he pulled a hand up to stroke though the angels soft curls. Aziraphale lent far too quickly into the touch, “hmm?”

 

“Yes well—I’ll try” Aziraphale nodded, revelling in the feeling of Crowley’s cold hands skating across his head. The urge to get closer to the demon steadily took hold, Crowley was looking down at him with something he couldn’t distinguish. He leant inwards and rested his head in the crook of Crowley’s neck, pulling his arms to lace around the demons chest as he continued to leaf his hands through the white curls. 

 

Crowley let out a contented hum as the pair swayed, “that’s better” he spoke a little soft, like something was catching in his throat as Aziraphale pressed closer-bathing in the bonfire and apple scent.

 

They stayed there, exactly like that, until the bar closed-upon which Aziraphale asked if Crowley wanted to come back to his for more scotch and some ice cream. 

 

Very obviously, Crowley said yes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading you beautiful ethereal/occult being!
> 
> Kudos and comments are lovely!


	3. Losing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is scared and Crowley attempts to make it all better.
> 
> Or 
> 
> In which Aziraphale is scared and Crowley is scared too.

_ London _

_ 2019 _

 

“Is there something wrong, angel?” Crowley looked up from his scotch glass to meet the angels distracted gaze.

 

“No—well I don’t know particularly” Aziraphale’s face twisted in confusion, an expression Crowley has grown to admire.

 

“You make little to no sense these days, angel do you know that?” Crowley would be amused if he wasn’t worried for Aziraphale. If anything was hurting his angel he’d like to know, so he could kill it. Crowley shifted forward in his seat and pulled off his glasses. 

 

“I’m sorry” Aziraphale looked sad, a look that threatened to break Crowley’s heart in two—if he had one, of course. 

 

“Don’t be sorry” Crowley shook his head “talk to me, what’s eating you?” 

 

“they’ll come for us” the angels face was crowded with unmistakable fear that stung Crowley with familiarity “and they’ll be angry—all wrath and vengeance and” a struggling beat passed “smiting*”, 

 

*Aziraphale was, in a big way, against smiting.

 

“Oh Angel” Crowley blessed his all too soppy tone before correcting it quickly “we’ve still got some time, they seem to think we’re both immune to smiting” a grin fled across his face before dropping, his statement didn’t help the angels plight, “we can make a plan” Crowley was a little desperate now, to say the least, seeing his angel upset was one of the worst things imaginable “keep your little bookshop safe and make sure—“.

 

“I don’t care about the bookshop” Aziraphale sniffed, eyes rolling with glassy tears, as he stared into the fire.

 

“What—Azir-“ Crowley was almost speechless, not once has he heard a single bad word or even overly stressed outburst about the angels shop. It was always spoken about with the highest level of respect a bookshop could hold. It was the envy of every other shop on the street (they all remarked how ‘lucky’ but ultimately a little ‘annoying’ it was amongst themselves when it was asleep).

 

“I’m not—worried about the bookshop” the angel huffed, putting his wine glass down and refusing to meet Crowley’s eyes

 

“What do you mean your not worried about the bookshop?” Crowley all but scoffed, trying to sound less alarmed than he was. He leant forward again, surprising himself by placing a hand on Aziraphale’s knee, “what’s wrong, angel?”.

 

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley’s hand, a small smile fleeting across his face, before covering it with his own. Crowley’s pulse jumped, electricity surging through his veins as the angel looked up at him, “Your so very cold, dear”.

 

“Cold blooded” Crowley chuckled, finding the angel a  little (a lot) endearing “what are you worried about, Angel?”

 

“I very much—I would hate to, lose you” Aziraphale looked up, meeting Crowley’s eyes—a dash of surprise rested in the yellow but mostly they were full of the demons own brand of kindness.

 

“You can’t lose me” Crowley returned “we’re mortal enemies anyway, enemies stick around—that’s their stick” Crowley bit back a chuckle despite himself 

 

“But we’re not enemies” Aziraphale’s grip tightened on the demons hand “we’re not enemies Crowley, you are my friend” the angel looked more sad than anything and Crowley has to squash the jump in his ribs at the term “were on the same side now and anyone could take you” Aziraphale, who usually looked plump and happy and the definition soft, looked scared and very very small. 

 

“angel” Crowley didn’t hesitate to lean forward, sinking onto his crossed legs in front of Aziraphale “you need to stop worrying” he all but cooed. 

 

“I don’t know how else to be” Aziraphale’s hand tightened ever more around Crowley’s “they’ll be coming” the angels breath rattled in panic and Crowley’s stomach lurched “they—“ 

 

“Relax Angel” Crowley hummed, bringing his other hand to rest on Aziraphale’s arm, running his thumb in soft circles.

 

“If I Relax I won’t be prepared” Aziraphale felt tears threaten his eyes and tried very hard to push them away again*.

 

*Angel tears are a very sought after commodity, to people interested in that sort of thing. 

 

“Prepared?” Crowley scoffed “Angel, you cant be prepared for everything-you’d stop living” he softened, with a little sigh “were we prepared for the apocalypse?” He questioned, knowing the answer far too well. 

 

“Not Particularly” Aziraphale sniffed a little and this was the moment Crowley noticed the tear, small and sad and a little shimmery, and the moment his heart (that he most definitely had) broke in two. 

 

“Come here” Crowley spoke in a half order that grabbed Aziraphale’s attention, nodding towards himself and the bookshops floor “come on”. 

 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, then looked at their hands, before dropping to the floor (a little unceremoniously). Crowley watched the angel until their eyes met, 

“I-we will be absolutely fine” the demon implored “even if we’re not, we shouldn’t stop living until they catch us” his eyes wandered the expanse of Aziraphale’s face “we’d never do anything, no ritz, no books no nothing” he sighed “hm?” 

 

“I’m—scared Crowley” there was another tear now and it was swiftly joined by another. The demons stomach lurched and turned over in his stomach, the lump in his throat grew and grew as he watched. He couldn’t take much more of it and found his hand moving to Aziraphale’s jaw, it burned but it was beautiful. He stroked his thumb across the soft skin and almost lost himself in it.

 

“Stop crying, angel” Crowley’s voice had turned into something softer than anyone had ever heard it, “Please” he implored, desperate to stop his angels pain. He wiped a tear, feeling it fizz against his skin, from Aziraphale’s blotchy face. 

 

“I can’t I—“ Aziraphale choked “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here-if they killed you” he pulled in a ragged breath and intertwined their fingers. Crowley swore he had never felt this many emotions at once; he felt utterly helpless to comfort the angel, he was angry at heaven and hell for making life so bloody difficult, at the same time his ribs burst and his heart twisted at Aziraphale’s fingers intertwined with his own and the angels soft skin beneath his hand. 

 

“I am here” Crowley pawed another tear “I’m here angel,” he found his fingers lacing into Aziraphale’s white hair, inexplicably soft and beautiful “I have no intentions of going anywhere-dead or alive” he offered a small laugh which was reciprocated in a tiny one before he wiped another tear. 

 

Red, itchy looking eyes fluttered up to meet his “I’m sorry this was—“ 

 

“Shh” Crowley shook his head “Don’t be sorry, angel, be anything but sorry”, the thought that his angel shouldn’t have opened up was a horrid one Crowley didn’t want to foster, even for a second. 

 

Crowley jumped a little, electricity surging through every pore, as Aziraphale’s hand came up to hold his own cheek. The angel smiled one of those smiles that warmed Crowley so furiously he would never be cold again, “my dear...”

 

my my my my my my my. Mine. 

 

Crowley’s head spun, eyes blown far wider than he wanted them. Aziraphale’s hand stilled for a moment, before it twisted and he brushed his knuckles along his demons jaw. Crowley swallowed, nerves pricking under Aziraphale’s touch. Very quickly and far too slowly Aziraphale leant inwards, so close Crowley could feel his breath for a painfully exquisite second before soft lips brushed his own.

 

Crowley’s stomach twisted with something hot and fizzing. Aziraphale’s lips pulled nervously at Crowley’s, the demons hands tightened and he let out a strangled whimper. The noise seemed to startle Aziraphale backwards, noting Crowley’s wide eyes and stunned expression. Aziraphale’s own eyes dashed with fear then embarrassment and Crowley couldn’t stop them from flooding. 

 

“I’m—no I’ve-I’m sorry—I-“ the angel stuttered, fear clawing at every corner of his body as his demon stared back “I didn’t—I’m-“ Aziraphale was stilled abruptly as Crowley’s hand snaked to the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer and into another kiss. 

 

It was Aziraphale’s turn to make a sound and Crowley could listen to it forever, wrapping himself closer to the angel. Legs encased legs, hands pulled and grabbed and Aziraphale would’ve thought it was an entirely too messy affair if it wasn’t so perfect. 

 

They pulled apart after what seemed like eternity, Crowley rested his head against Aziraphale’s jaw-breathing in the smell of mint and apple like it was the last thing left to breathe. To Crowley, he was. 

 

“I don’t want you to be afraid” Crowley spoke, his voice was languid but held nerves trickling below its surface. 

 

“I’ll try” Aziraphale’s hand came to rest in Crowley’s red locks. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoo!! Check out chapter two for me I updated then deleted then updated with a different chapter?! Oof sorry it’s really cute tho. 
> 
> Thank you for reading precious thang!


	4. Drunk and disorderly 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets extremely drunk in order to tell Crowley how he feels, things go very much awry. 
> 
> Or
> 
> In which Aziraphale gets too drunk and has written a list, Crowley is smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’ll be another one like this at some other point with our demonic friend Crowley being the drunk one, but it’s a bitch to write so have this one in the meantime.

_ London _

_ 2019 _

 

Rain tapped the windows around Crowley’s home, the demon was sitting restlessly against the uncomfortable sofa. He seemed to be nursing the same glass of scotch as a few hours before, he hadn’t found the effort to drink any. Aziraphale had been on radio silence for the last 48 hours and it wasn’t a nice feeling. 

 

The demon twisted his head up at a feverish knock on his door; he heaved himself up and waltzed to the knocking. 

 

Crowley opened the door to a soaking wet, very obviously drunk, angel; 

 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley furrowed his brows,“Wh—“ he stopped as the angel wrapped him in a sloppy, rain sodden hug,  “Oh your soaked” Crowley tutted, quickly using a demonic miracle to dry them both, “did you walk here?” He hummed.

 

“I had to come” Aziraphale pawed at the demons waist “I had to walk”, he mumbled “You smell so good, do I tell you that enough” Aziraphale nuzzled into Crowley’s neck,

 

“I can’t recall you ever telling me that” Crowley chuckled “how much have you had to drink angel?” 

 

“Oh a lot, I was working up my courage—is that what humans say?” Aziraphale pulled away, ruffling his hands hands through Crowley’s hair, the demon struggled not to lean into the drunken touch.

 

“For what?” He questioned, watching as Aziraphale pulled away-looking at him with eyes that stirred in his stomach. 

 

“Nevermin-d I’ll tell you later” Aziraphale shook his head before slumping onto Crowley’s sofa shakily. 

 

“Later?” Crowley settled opposite him 

 

“I—would you take your glasses of Crowley pretty please?” Aziraphale smiled brightly, pleading eyes that hurt somewhere in Crowley’s chest. He pulled off his glasses and placed them on the side, “That’s better, oh god your eyes are so pretty-oh Crowley they’re beautiful, do people tell you that?” Aziraphale marvelled at the demon in front of him,

 

“Not often angel” Crowley smiled,

 

“Can I tell you?” Aziraphale shot curious eyes to Crowley,

 

“Of course” the demon nodded, finding his angel a little too endearing.

 

“Y-your eyes are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen—“ he twisted his head to catch more of Crowley “I think, I think that’s number seven” his brows furrowed.

 

“Number seven?” Crowley leant forward, trying to understand a little more 

 

“I made a list of things to tell you” Aziraphale nodded, matter-of-factly 

 

“Do go on” Crowley grinned 

 

Aziraphale nods, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper. He unfolds it and squints, lighting up a smile on Crowley’s face. 

 

“Crowley?” He looks up to meet his eyes,

 

“Yes angel?” Crowley returns, curious to what the note contains and enjoying the drunk angel a little too much, 

 

“I think-Crowley I think your very very beautiful—so so,” he paused and looked up to meet Crowley’s eyes “I think your the most beautiful thing to ever live” Crowley’s heart stoped at the words, part of him wants to float to the sky and the other part, pushing him to the ground, reminds him the angel is drunk. 

 

“Angel—“ he started, a smile pulling on his face “angel I—“, 

 

“Whenever you call me angel Crowley-oh angel angel angel angel” Aziraphale dropped against the sofa for a moment before sitting up again “my stomach does flips! Flips Crowley!” He exclaimed 

 

“Really?” Crowley found his breath catching, found himself staring at the angel before him. He found himself doing a lot of things when the angel was involved.

 

“I may be a gymnast” Aziraphale gleamed

 

“You could be” Crowley raised his brows to his very drunk angel,

 

“Okay. Next” Aziraphale coughed “when-w—Crowley?” He looked up,

 

“Yes angel?” Crowley beamed,

 

“I’m going to speed through some, do you mind” He furrowed his brows decisively 

 

“I don’t mind” Crowley nodded 

 

“Your hair makes me very very happy—it’s sort of like fire?? But in a good way” Aziraphale squinted at the chuckling demon “you-when I—“ he growled in frustration before slamming the turned over note on the table,

 

“Angel?” Crowley’s brows furrowed, 

 

“Can I kiss you?” Aziraphale looked up, 

 

“Angel—“ Crowley’s breath stopped, something between nerves-and something else that buzzed-caught in his stomach.

 

“Crowley it’s on the list, the-can I kiss you?” Aziraphale repeated, brows furrowed in the beginning of sadness.

 

“I don’t think it’s wise—“ Crowley started, trying to dissuade the angel from doing something he’d regret.

 

“You don’t want me too” his lip quivered, tears brewing in his eyes. 

 

“No angel, no don’t cry” Crowley’s stomach lurched, jumping forward into action, he held onto the angels knee.

 

“I thought you’d want too” Aziraphale cried, tears rolling steadily from his eyes. 

 

“I do I do!” Crowley implored, fear pulling at his features “I do, angel!”,

 

“Then why don’t you?” Aziraphale’s lip quivered as he sniffed,

 

“Your drunk, you may regret this I don’t want to—take advantage” Crowley reasoned, he was unsure wether the angels feelings would persist when he was sober. Part of him wanted to take the chance and see but the other wanted to throw the drunk being out so he didn’t have to bother being hurt,

 

“Take advantage! Your-you wouldn’t-couldn’t” He spluttered “no crolwey I didn’t say that I said I want to kiss you—“ the angel was really crying now, tears rolled steadily from his eyes in a rapid succession that terrified the demon.

 

“Angel—angel dearest I know” Crowley cooed, stroking his hand through Aziraphale’s pearly white locks, they felt like electricity under the skin “oh precious thing, I know that” he spoke softly, softer than he could ever remember speaking. 

 

“What’s—oh Crowley I don’t understand” Aziraphale huffed, flattening his arms against the sofa “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long” he sniffed,

 

“So have I” Crowley smiled brightly,

 

“More than kiss you” Aziraphale raised his brows, twisting his head a little to the side as Crowley chuckled 

 

“I know how you feel—“ he started 

 

“But-But” Aziraphale wrung his hands nervously “darling I’m so confused” tears threatened his eyes once more,

 

“Could you sober up?” Crowley jumped in,

 

“think so” the angel sniffed,

 

“You’ll understand better then, I promise” Crowley smiled sweetly,

 

Aziraphale nodded tearily, reaching out for Crowley’s hand as he willed the many many units of alcohol back into their receptive bottles/glasses/jellies?*

 

*crowley had invented jello-shots in 1862, He was very proud of them. 

 

Aziraphale shook his head, cringing at the unsavoury taste on his tongue, eyes screwing Shut for a moment before blowing wide in a mix of terror and embarrassment. 

 

“Oh—oh no” he couldn’t meet Crowley’s eyes and the demon felt his heart drop to his stomach and snap in half “oh Crowley I’m—oh dear I’m so sorry” he pulled away, standing up, leaving Crowley’s outstretched hand limp in the air.

 

“Angel—“ Crowley sighed “please” 

 

“No i—I’m sorry I’ve, Ive ruined everything haven’t I?” Aziraphale paced the echoing room “I’ve ruined it all oh dear-Crowley-“

 

“You haven’t ruined anything” Crowley stood up quickly “Angel you—you didn’t-“

 

“But I did I—I made the list and oh god!” His hands clenched at his sides nervously “oh god the—“ he ran his hands through his hair “just—just forget it, please-“ 

 

“No” Crowley shook his head, snatching up the crumpled list and storming over to his angel “You—when did you write this list, before you started drinking?” He raised his brows expectantly,

 

“Crowley—“ 

 

“When!” Crowley growled 

 

“Yes, yes before—but I-“ Aziraphale swallowed, tears of embarrassment and longing and fear swarming his eyes, 

 

“You said you-you love my eyes and my hair and when I call you angel and-“ Crowley was rambling, 6000 years of pain and longing forcing themselves up his throat “and—angel I, I love-I love your eyes, I do they’re gorgeous” he implored “a-and your hair and when you call me dear or-or love or anything” he brought his hands to cup Aziraphale’s stunned face “Angel you said you want to kiss me”,

 

“I—I do” the angels voice was hoarse “I do—I have done, I was so scared” he moved a hand to brush it through Crowley’s soft red hair, 

 

“So scared you had to drink a whole bar, hmm?” Crowley ran his thumb across Aziraphale’s warm cheek,

 

“Quite” the angel chuckled, eyes blown wide in Crowley’s direction. He watched the demon pull closer, watched his eyes fill with something he’d seen so many times but never understood—till now. 

 

“can I kiss you?” Crowley spoke quietly, voice cracking with emotion. 

 

“Please” Aziraphale’s hand tightened in Crowley’s hair, the demon whimpered-pulling himself closer to his angel and crashing their lips together. 

 

It was the most beautiful feeling Crowley, was sure, he had ever felt. Aziraphale was warm, that sort of warm of that hid in duvet covers and bonfires (both things Crowley loved). He curled into the angels touch like a cat in the sun, it felt right. 

 

Aziraphale let out a sort of strangled moan that Crowley swallowed quickly, before pulling back and settling his forehead against the demons. Their breaths mingled between them, laboured and heavy with so so many years. 

 

“Angel—“ Crowley’s voice broke 

 

“Cr-please, please just read number one” Aziraphale kissed his demons cheek, then his temple, littering kisses on every square inch of skin he could.

 

Crowley mumbled something incoherent, Aziraphale remarked it sounded like something between heaven and hell and it was glorious, before turning the note in his hands. 

 

‘1. I love you’ 

 

“angel” Crowley dropped the note “angel, angel, angel I love you too” Crowley caught Aziraphale’s lips again, wrapping a hand into his beautiful white hair, holding the angels shoulder to bring him closer. 

 

“You do?” Aziraphale’s smile curled upwards, pulling away to study his demons face, 

 

“For 6000 years” Crowley peppered kisses along Aziraphale’s lips, delighting in the noises it brought out of the angel.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t” Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer, burying himself in the crook of his neck and leaving tentative kisses as he went “tell you sooner I-“ 

 

“It’s okay, angel” Crowley twisted to place a loving kiss on Aziraphale’s temple “we’ve got all the time in the world”.

 

 

 

> Unread exerts from Aziraphale’s list;
> 
> 8\. I really sometimes do wonder if I could see your wings again, from what I remember they were magnificent.
> 
> 10\. I often think to that time in the war, with the nazis, and I wish I could tell you how much that meant.
> 
> 6\. I want to take you on holiday. 
> 
> 2\. Do you think about me? 
> 
> 5\. Would you let me dance with you? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Here’s the information on Jell-O shots in case you wondered, http://jelloshotrecipe.blogspot.com/2008/11/bit-of-history.html?m=1
> 
> I love me some comments oh! They make me happy!


	5. Missed appointments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WING FIC WING FIC WING FIC
> 
> Or 
> 
> IN WHICH WING FIC WING FIC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lads I—I overcame my fear of wing fics to force this upon you.

_ London  _

_ 2019 _

It wasn’t like Aziraphale to miss an appointment, it was unheard of in fact. During the many many years of his life Aziraphale had prided himself on his punctuality for appointments (or his punctuality for cancelling appointments), which is why Crowley was currently speeding at 150mph through central London. 

 

There was something wrong.

 

Aziraphale and himself had arranged to meet for lunch the day prior, tea and cake at a fascinating little cafe, Aziraphale suggested they meet there-as he liked the walk and knew Crowley liked the drive. The angel had seemed very excited, going on and on about what type of cake he wanted and which tea Crowley should choose (coffee). So when he didn’t show up, after 3 hours of waiting (and 10 embarrassingly needy phone calls) Crowley was pissed to say the least. He sat at home, for the better half of the day, steeping in his own anger and sleeping. 

 

The highlight of, seemingly his life, was meeting Aziraphale-seeing Aziraphale. Going to stupid little cafes and walking through parks, annoyingly pointless pass-times that in Aziraphale’s presence seemed the most meaningful. Crowley loved every second with his angel; every bite of too sweet cake, every opera, every game of never ending chess, every evening spent curled around Aziraphale as he read—they were all so utterly divine Crowley thought nothing else compared. Which, in all honesty, was correct. 

 

Nothing compared to time spent with his angel, the angel he very much loved. 

 

It was stupid really, Crowley thought, to let himself feel so much for the angel. But feeling, when Aziraphale was concerned, was beautiful. Feeling the angels joy, elation, surprise, anger, fear, love—it was like being at home again after a too long holiday. It was right. Crowley had found every little detail of Aziraphale by the early years of earths existence; studying him from afar, or sometimes up close, watching him move and talk and laugh and eat. Anything, it was glorious. And it still is, which is why he was so angry Aziraphale wasn’t there for lunch. 

 

And it wasn’t that he missed lunch, it was that he wasn’t there and he didn’t tell Crowley and that Crowley missed him more than plants miss the sun. He missed his hair, his unfashionable jackets, his smug grin and the way he eats. 

 

Oh, the way he eats. Like it’s his last meal, like he’ll never taste food again. savouring each taste and texture, closing his eyes in bliss-eyelids fluttering to mirror Crowley’s heart as he watches. And The  sounds he makes, Crowley often thinks they’re positively filthy and wholly distracting.

 

“Oh, dear boy, you must eat some more” Aziraphale tutted, sending a half alarmed glance to Crowley’s plate.

 

“S’right, I’m not hungry angel” Crowley gleamed, watching the ‘Why did you order food then, silly thing’ smirk rattle across Aziraphale’s face.

 

“You really should give food more of a chance” Aziraphale chastised, finishing off his tart with an unbridled grin. He had ordered a scrumptious sounding apple tart whilst Crowley had ordered himself a lemon one-very much intending not to eat it. 

 

“I’m happy with coffee” Crowley sipped on the still too hot beverage to make a point. He was happy to watch Aziraphale tuck into his own food, something about it being an apple tart warmed Crowley’s stomach a little too much than what was appropriate for a lunchtime. 

 

“It’s going to go to waste” Aziraphale eyed the lemon tart, before meeting Crowley’s eyes with those raised brows and that little smile Crowley’s heart did flips for. 

 

“Would you like to have some, angel?” Crowley gleamed, watching Aziraphale’s smile widen as the angel laughed. 

 

“Well—I would love too” Aziraphale straightened his collar “it does look delicious—but only if you try some” the angel sent a half stern look up to Crowley but it was displaced by his smile. 

 

“Deal” Crowley nodded, deciding very quickly that Aziraphale wouldn’t touch the fork unless he really wanted to, and placed a perfect little bite on the metal before presenting it to the angel. 

 

Said angels eyes flickered between Crowley and the fork, for just a moment, before his lips parted and his eyes closed as he leant forwards. Crowley swallowed as he placed the fork between Aziraphale’s lips, watching as they closed delicately and pulled away. 

 

Crowley watched him eat with unbridled Joy, watched the flavour spark a smile across Aziraphale’s face, unable to stop his own grin forming.

 

The angel opened his eyes, they flicked towards the wood of the table and then Crowley’s own as a blush settled on his cheeks. He laughed a little breathily before talking again “that’s positively delicious Crowley, you must try some”, 

 

“If you say sso” Crowley didn’t move his gaze from Aziraphale, couldn’t, as he placed a bite on the fork and moved it to his lips. He felt heady almost instantly, the angels lips wrapped around the fork only a few moments prior, as he tasted the tart. When he looked up he saw his expression mirrored in Aziraphale’s and had no idea what to do with it except look. 

 

And as they left the restaurant Aziraphale asked, as he did every time, if Crowley wanted to come back to the bookshop for some more coffee and, later, a drink. He asked with that big beautiful smile on his face and Crowley wouldn’t dream of saying no.

 

The car screeched to a halt outside the bookshop, there were no lights on and the usual closed sign hung in the door. This wasn’t unusual, the lights remained off to deter the most committed customers, but he couldn’t see the angel dithering about. 

 

And that was strange. 

 

After a few fevered knocks to the door Crowley decided that waiting was against his better nature and clicked his fingers, the doors swung open and he stepped inside with a little more apprehension than usual. It very eerily reminded him of the fire, no angel in sight, forcing his stomach into a tight knot. 

 

“Aziraphale?” He tried to quash the nerves pricking in his voice as he continued into the angels back room, finding nothing. 

 

“Aziraphale!” He called out this time, Rushing up the stairs in a sort of undignified way he was embarrassed to have rushed in. 

 

“Angel!” He called again “ange—“ His eyes landed on Aziraphale’s coat- stranded haphazardly on a chair, his jacket and waistcoat left much the same in a crumpled mess by the bedroom door. 

 

He quashed any thoughts he didn’t particularly want to think and pushed open the door. The breath he released upon the sight of the angel alone in the room quickly caught again at the angels posture and position. 

 

Aziraphale was curled into the corner of the room, his wings were unfurled but they were beyond messy-feathers littering the ground, muscle and skin showing through gaps in the soft white. He was shaking, letting out a disgruntled growl or hopeless little whimper from time to time as his wings jolted and bristled. 

 

Angels weren’t known for their impeccably cared for wings but this was something else, this was nearer neglect. 

 

“Angel?” Crowley didn’t realise his voice was as shaky as it sounded, the angel in question didn’t reply he just curled into himself more. 

 

Crowley approached, stepping delicately across to where the angel resided, he crouched down and placed a hand on the angels calf “Azirapha—“, 

 

Aziraphale jumped, wings jolting upwards as he scrambled into the corner, letting out a sort of high pitched growl. The angel seemed to study Crowley for a moment before realising who Exactly it was he was looking at, “Crowley?”,

 

“Hello angel” Crowley smiled, trying not to show the distress he felt at the angels appearance. His face was taut, pale with red rimmed eyes and thin lips. Crowley had never seen the angel like this, not really-not fully. It was terrifying.

 

“W—what are you doing here?” He croaked, furrowing his brows,

 

“You missed our lunch” Crowley twisted into a crossed legged position,

 

“Oh, did I?” Aziraphale looked positively mortified “oh, oh Crowley I’m so so—“ 

 

“No” Crowley shook his head quickly “no angel, don’t worry—” he watched as the angel nodded “what’s going on?”, 

 

Aziraphale sniffed, wrapping his wings around himself protectively, “I’m moulting” 

 

“Moulting—Why aren’t you in” Crowley started before his brain kicked in “ah”. 

 

Angels, unlike demons, who rarely desired to keep their wings (Crowley was one of the exceptions, very much enjoying them (when moulting he tended to go home, brood and sleep until it went away)) tended to stay in groups of angels in similar predicaments. It was a painful experience, even worse stuck on earth, Aziraphale often found himself slinking back to heaven to mingle around other angels experiencing the same. Being closer to grace seemed to lessen the pain somewhat, being closer to other angels lessened the pain but Aziraphale didn’t particularly enjoy it. Besides there was no way he could visit now, all of heaven would pounce on him the second he set foot up there. 

 

Crowley sighed, watching Aziraphale shift around-uncomfortable in his own skin and hated it. Crowley stood up, extending a hand to the angel on the floor, “Come on”,

 

Aziraphale looked up, with a more than confused expression laced over his features, as he grabbed onto Crowley’s hand. The demon helped Aziraphale up carefully, the angel groused-wings bristling against the movement. Crowley led Aziraphale to the bed carefully, the angel pulled back “Crowley I don’t sleep”, 

 

“Your not sleeping” Crowley helped the angel slump onto the middle of the bed, crossing his legs and extending his wings “Your going to sit there and I’m going to help, okay?” He raised his brows, watching as Aziraphale turned to him with a mix of nerves and disbelief written across his face, “what?” 

 

“Crowley, you don’t have too—“ 

 

“Shut up angel” Crowley tutted “turn around, Relax” he crawled up onto the bed, sitting behind Aziraphale, and tried to displace his nerves. He took a breath and delicately traced the messy semi plumes at the top of Aziraphale’s left wing. The angel flinched away, “did I hurt you?” Crowley’s voice was hoarse, more hoarse than he wanted it to be.

 

“No” Aziraphale shook his head, returning his wing to its previous position “no they’re just—“ he paused,

 

“Sensitive?” Crowley offered, “I’ll be gentle, angel, just relax” He soothes, watching as the tension held in Aziraphale’s breath melts away. 

 

He resumed tracing a few small lines in the downy feathers, he felt more than electricity rushing through him and had to hold back any sort of sound he was tempted to make at the touch. They felt like Aziraphale’s hair, soft and pillowy and light, Crowley’s head swum at the touch. He could touch them all day if Aziraphale would let him, they  felt like Aziraphale, it was like reaching in and touching his angels very soul and it was divine. 

 

He soothed and stroked the feathers, combing them back into place with delicate touches. Aziraphale released a contented sigh against the touch, instinctively nuzzling his wing into Crowley’s hand. Crowley decided to work from top to bottom, smoothing the feathers to the tips of Aziraphale’s wings before beginning at the primaries that resided there. 

 

Aziraphale shivered, unfurling his wing to give Crowley a better angle, “You alright?” The Demon questioned. 

 

“Perfect” Aziraphale sighed, he shifted his back, the un-discarded shirt crumpling and shifting “can I?—“ 

 

“Of course” Crowley swallowed thickly, removing his hands from the angels wings-Aziraphale whimpered a little at the loss but Crowley was too distracted.

 

Aziraphale struggled with the buttons, his mind too mugged down with the copious amounts of pain that, whilst eased almost entirely with Crowley’s touches, didn’t go away “Crowley, would you?” He mumbled, Crowley had to catch his breath for a moment before nodding and clicking his fingers. 

 

Aziraphale relaxed almost instantly “better?” Crowley drawled, his attention lie solely with Aziraphale’s now exposed back. He wanted desperately to trace his hands along its expanse, follow the dot to dots of little clusters of freckles. The creamy white of Aziraphale’s back curved with the angels love of cakes and dinners at the ritz and Crowley loved it. He loved the little dimples at its base and the squeezable love handles. 

 

“Much” Aziraphale returned, folding his wing a little so Crowley could reach the far off feathers better. The demon noticed tension seep into the angels back again and shook his head,

 

“No angel it’s fine” he hopped off the bed and gently extended the wing before settling down in the floor below it. 

 

“Are you sure dear?” Aziraphale mumbled, closing his eyes as Crowley resumed fixing the out of place wings before him.

 

“Very sure” Crowley retuned, losing himself in the dizzying feeling of the angels wings. He combed through the primaries delicately, picking out the moulting feathers. Crowley could feel the shift of skin beneath his fingers and shuddered, it hurt but so beautifully Crowley was sure he could never care. 

 

Aziraphale broke the silence with a moan, a small breathy sound that twisted Crowley’s stomach. He looked up to see the angels eyes closed, a comfortable smile residing on his face. Crowley swallowed thickly before continuing, He could settle himself onto the bed to tidy the middle part of Aziraphale’s wing, tracing his hand carefully along the feathers. The angel Keened into the touch, letting another moan surface from his throat, arching his back with a sigh. 

 

“Is this—are you—“ Crowley was undeniably nervous, the angels wings under his touch was something he had only dreamt about for 6000 years. 

 

Aziraphale couldn’t reply, he just managed to nod as Crowley began to stroke and straighten the primaries close to his back. The feeling was more than euphoric, Aziraphale-with his knowledge of all the words in human history*-could not put any words too it. It didn’t feel like this when angels in heaven straightened out his feathers, it didn’t feel this  right .

 

*apart from french. 

 

Crowley gently eased Aziraphale’s wings a little wider, prompting another little moan to surface from the angel-prompting Crowley’s head to spin. He combed through the feathers, they felt a little tougher there-taught against the angels strained muscle, 

 

“Relax Angel” Crowley pawed, tracing soft lines across the haphazard feathers. He wanted, so very much, to bury his hands in the soft downy feathers but thought better of it judging by the way his angel flinched away from his touch earlier.

 

Crowley finished on the first wing before moving to the next, combing hands through tattered feathers and massaging the strained muscle underneath. 

 

“Crowley..” Aziraphale mumbled, rolling his head toward the demon slightly,

 

“Are you okay?” Crowley froze, nervous he’d hurt the angel, or overstepped the invisible line Aziraphale so often mentioned. 

 

“S’good” Aziraphale slurred, Crowley started to breathe again before continuing.

 

After finishing the other wing Crowley sat back to admire them, they were beautiful, huge and pearly white, arching across the room. He ran his finger absently along the expanse of feathers, he felt Aziraphale shudder at the contact but the angel leant into it. Crowley realised there were feathers one could only reach if sitting on the other side of the angel, feathers on the other side of the muscle-resting against Aziraphale’s ribs. 

 

He stood up, head spinning as Aziraphale whined “Crowley—“,

 

“I’m here, angel” Crowley soothed, sitting opposite Aziraphale with a soft smile “just getting a better angle”, his eyes landed on Aziraphale’s face; cheeks flushed, eyes hooded, mouth slightly open. The demon struggled to keep his composure as he started straightening out the underside of Aziraphale’s wing. 

 

It was, admittedly, a difficult position (even for a snake). Craning toward Aziraphale, twisting under his wing whilst trying not to smother the angel in the process. Aziraphale presumably sensed this and opened his eyes fully, watching Crowley for a distinctly painful moment before speaking, 

 

“Crowley dear, you can sit—“ the angel huffed, uncrossing his legs and sitting with them either side of the demon-the demon who was looking more than stunned, “you can sit closer, there” he nodded to the space, eyes filling with something uncertain as they trained on Crowley “if you like?”, 

 

“Y—Yeah-I” Crowley’s voice was hollow before he stopped trying to speak and moved closer. Sitting with crossed legs in between Aziraphale’s open ones. He tried not to be distracted by the angels chest so close to his, the curve of his stomach and his exposed nape. He very much willed his vessel to stay under control. 

 

From his new position he gained a new vantage point over the wings, able to dig in and straighten feathers with more ease, he watched as he stroked a particularly sensitive area and Aziraphale shuddered. 

 

A breathy moan fell from the angels lips, 

“Crowley-“ he started before whining, jerking his wing out of Crowley’s hand “too much—it’s too” his breath caught and for a moment Crowley thought he would cry before the angel just sighed and deflated.

 

“Sorry, angel” Crowley cooed “I’m sorry I didn’t—do you want me to stop?” He watched as Aziraphale shook his head, looking up to meet Crowley’s gaze for a moment, 

 

“No, just—not there” he clarified, moving his wing back to its previous position.

 

Crowley nodded, before beginning to straighten feathers on the other wing, watching Aziraphale for any discomfort. He was about to request the billowing tips of the angels wings be brought up to him as Aziraphale’s head dropped into the crook of his neck. 

 

Crowley shuddered, feeling the angel nuzzle into him, feeling Aziraphale’s cloudy hair on his jaw, he could feel the angels languid breath on his skin.

 

“Angel, you with me?” The Demon croaked, trying not to collapse, 

 

“Mmhmm” Aziraphale mumbled in return, voice vibrating across Crowley’s skin, resting his lips ageing The demons nape.

 

“I need to finish angel” Crowley murmured, carding his hand through the angels soft curls, Aziraphale’s touch so close was like the sweetest of fires.

 

“I’m comfy here” Aziraphale spoke against the now heated skin of Crowley’s nape, pulling his sloppy arms around the demons waist. Crowley could see stars, the angels scent so intoxicating he felt he was back in heaven, “would you stay with me?” Aziraphale asked with more openness and relaxation Crowley had witnessed in a while and it made his knees weak. 

 

“If you let me finish” the demon posed, running soft circles on the back of the angels neck with his thumb “hmm?” 

 

Aziraphale pulled back, eyes fixed on Crowley with languid interest, sleepily dragging his body away as much as he could bare. Crowley smiled back at him, nodding to the ends of Aziraphale’s dove white wings, “Can you bring them here?”,

 

Aziraphale nodded, eyes lazily pulled open, “think so” he brings them up to rest in Crowley’s lap. 

 

The angels gaze shifted into one of a little more than just languid interest as Crowley fixes the feathers. Crowley relished the fizzing feeling of the feathers in his hand, stroking them down to pristinely sharp points. He jumped, a little, as the wing he had moved on from began to stroke his side. Soft little touches that left heat on every ounce of Crowley they brushed over. 

 

There was no word to describe it, no picture Crowley could conjure in his head to even come close. It was more than a feeling it was something palpable but at the same time something entirely unreal. He couldn’t stop his breath hitching, or the shaky sound that fell from his lips, eyes running to meet Aziraphale’s gaze. 

 

“Sleep with me?” Aziraphale’s voice is small and nervy and heavy with the massaging to his wings, 

 

“Steady on there angel” Crowley offers and nervous breath of laughter “We’ve only just met 6000 years ago”, he watched as even in his languid state Aziraphale was able to roll his eyes.

 

“Do shut up, you beastly thing” Aziraphale chides, scooting away before snuggling into his very rarely used bed. He keeps his wings out of the way until Crowley is in between them—nuzzling into the warmth and love that exudes from the angel. 

 

“Will you sleep?” Crowley asks, lips brushing soft white feathers as Aziraphale snuggles into the crook of his neck. He hopes Aziraphale will sleep, he prays Aziraphale will sleep just to know he’s safe and next to him and breathing.

 

“Of course dear” Aziraphale returns, “you have made me extremely sleepy”.

 

It’s small, and you’d only notice if it you were really paying attention (Crowley was), but Aziraphale presses a soft kiss into Crowley’s jaw. 

 

They both slept in a way no being had ever slept before. 

 

It was, in a word, ineffable. 


	6. Daisy chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale found these particular Daisies oh so very pretty, so he made his demon a gift, very much expecting it to be discarded within the next day. 
> 
> Or 
> 
> Aziraphale makes Crowley a daisy chain and it utterly destroys the demon who is a mess of feelings for this entire chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters, writers block and mental stability are bitches huh, hope you enjoy!

 

Crowley had arrived, picnic basket in tow, on a lovely Wednesday afternoon. He requested the angel join him on a picnic, and well, Aziraphale was more than happy to oblige. Miracle performed so they had two lovely bottles of wine and a picnic blanket as they settled into Crowley’s Bentley. 

 

The park was, somehow, miraculously quiet. Screaming children had returned home, canoodling couples left to find quiet corners and yapping dogs had taken the day off*. 

 

*visiting relatives and such-like, some even went for pedicures. 

 

It was on this particular picnic Aziraphale found himself wholly distracted, it didn’t seem to bother Crowley as the two of them could sit in comfortable silences for days on end, by all the Daisies. They seemed somewhat more alive and very happy to be there*. Their white petals were gleaming and their yellow centres were positively glowing. 

 

*they were, very happy in fact and very confused as to why they were plucked from the ground by an Angel a few moments later.

 

Aziraphale had never been one for daisy chains, he’d only ever made one once and it was a fairly atrocious attempt by all standards, but he felt a distinct urge to make one on this particular Wednesday afternoon.

 

This was something Crowley didn’t notice, he was sprawled across their annoyingly tartan picnic blanket, head resting in Aziraphale’s plush lap, drifting in and out of contented sleep. He was half dreaming, of Ancient Greece with Freddy Mercury dressed as a sailor, when he felt a ticklish sort of feeling over his cheek. 

 

He ignored it for as long as possible, scrunching his eyes and flicking his snake-like tongue out to try and smell whatever it was, but eventually he had to peel his eyes open. He came face to face with an assault of Daisies, wobbling in Aziraphale’s well-manicured fingers. The angels face was a picture, brows furrowed in deep concentration*, tongue poking out from his lips that Crowley stared at far too often, hands tense but ever so carefully gripping the small chain of Daisies. 

 

*making daisy chains was about as hard as tasks got if the angel was concerned. 

 

“Morning angel” Crowley smiled, sleep heavy voice causing Aziraphale’s eyes to dart towards the sound.

 

“Oh dear, did I wake you up?” Aziraphale looked guilty, pausing mid chain, brows furrowing in concern. 

 

“No, course not” Crowley lied, he was a demon after all “whatyoumaking?” His eyes tried to stay trained on Aziraphale’s features but kept getting yanked away by the swinging pendulum of Daisies. 

 

“The Daisies looked so pretty” Aziraphale began, smile pulling at his rosy cheeks fantastically “I was determined to make a good daisy chain, more wine?” Aziraphale’s gaze shifted to Crowley’s empty glass for a moment. 

 

The demon wanted to say yes but he also wanted every single atom in the area to stay in the exact same spot, so he was able to savour the angel for as long as he could, so decided against it. 

 

“I’m fine for now” his hands came to rest contentedly over his stomach but wanted desperately to hold the hands that were fiddling delicately with Daisies. 

 

“Not like you” Aziraphale’s concentrated state shifted to a little smile for a moment.

 

“You’ve neglected our book for daisy chains angel, that’s not like you” Crowley spoke fondly, with an undeniable smile that Aziraphale returned two fold. 

 

“Would you rather I read?” The angel found Crowley’s eyes for a moment before returning to his daisy chain,

 

“No” Crowley replied, the idea of losing the view was a terrible one “I’m fine like this” he smiled as Aziraphale huffed, obviously on a particularly tricky daisy, a little sort of determined huff that stuck somewhere in Crowley’s chest and warmed it like a fire. 

 

“Would you read a little?” Aziraphale asked, expression steeling in annoyance as a daisy broke, “I am curious to find out what happens next, but I’m busy”.

 

Crowley Hated reading out loud, especially to his angel, he tended to get way too involved in the story and he’d forget to stop himself hissing. The hissing was just another reminder him and Aziraphale were not meant to be together, having picnics and sleeping in each other’s laps. He was going to tell Aziraphale no, I’ve spontaneously forgotten how to read, until Aziraphale spoke again.

 

“You have a beautiful reading voice my dear” he looked down at Crowley with what one could only describe as softness, endearing eyes and a bright smile “hissing or no, would you?” He raised his brows, and Crowley could feel something melting in his stomach. 

 

“Alright then” the demon croaked, clearing his throat a little frantically, before grabbing the book and finding their particular page “If he knew, if he only knew that I was giving him every chance to put two and two together and come up with a number bigger than—“ he stopped himself, finding the book a little more than telling, Aziraphale’s daisy chain production distracting him completely.

 

It was hard to read at the best of times, sitting in Aziraphale’s book shop and curled around the angel, but this was something else entirely. The angel fiddling around above him was more than distracting, the little hums of discontent kept on pulling him from the book in an attempt to watch whatever was causing them. It didn’t take long until he had ceased reading all together. 

 

“Have you always found daisy chains this interesting?” Aziraphale spoke suddenly, almost making Crowley jump.

 

“Something like that” Crowley returned, annoying finding that the daisy chain was almost finished.

 

“Well, it’s nearly done” Aziraphale smiled down at Crowley fro a moment before speaking again “give me your arm please dear?” He said, eyeing the demon expectantly,

 

“Wh—why?” Crowley’s brows furrowed in confusion as Aziraphale reached for the demons arm “Az-“,

 

“Shh” Aziraphale chuckled, “just pass it here, stubborn thing” he caught Crowley’s wrist and pulled it into his lap.

 

Crowley felt his pulse quicken immeasurably under the angels touch, he was sure the angel could feel it too. Aziraphale turned Crowley’s wrist around for a moment before laying it carefully on his leg, “are you alright dear?”, 

 

“Perfectly” Crowleys voice was hoarse as he spoke, cursing it silently “what are you doing?” He questioned, focusing on the brush of Aziraphale’s soft fingers on his wrist. 

 

“Giving you the daisy chain” Aziraphale spoke softly, tapping the demons arm once he’d secured it “there you go”, 

 

Crowley brought his arm forward, staring at the little bracelet, he felt something choke in his chest, a lump formed in his throat and he quickly tried to swallow it all away. It was beautiful, messy and more than delicate and it was from Aziraphale.

 

And so he kept it, he kept it on the drive to Aziraphale’s bookshop, he kept it when he arrived home, he kept it the following day as he was scaring his plants, he kept it when he met Aziraphale for lunch, when he visited for wine and scotch that evening. 

 

The only problem was, daisy chains tend to die-very quickly. Crowley couldn’t stand the thought of that so simply didn’t expect it too, and it didn’t. It stayed, hidden under his sleeve, or in his pocket or even tucked under one of his feathers, constantly. 

 

It followed him to museums, on holidays, to that one run in with the priest and the nun, to a particularly scathing meeting with hastur and beyond. It stayed very well hidden, if Crowley did say so himself, all these times. 

 

It stayed hidden until, a year later, Aziraphale found it. 

 

It was the sort of Friday afternoon that could go on forever and you wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Crowley and Aziraphale sat, open book and sandwiches close by, on their same tartan blanket in their usual spot. It was their 67th picnic and it was no different than the others in any noticeable way*. Crowley had resigned to glaring at a particularly forward duck whilst Aziraphale read his first edition happily. 

 

*it was different, the air was different and people had the distinct notion to give the two people their privacy. Nobody knew what for particularly, but it felt like it was the right thing to do. 

 

Crowley had had such a good time, that he’d forgotten to put the daisy chain in his pocket instead of on his wrist. He didn’t notice this, however, until it was too late.

 

“Crowley, my dear, would you pass me the wine?” Aziraphale asked, eyes pawing at his book as Crowley’s insides melted.

 

“I’m busy” Crowley whined, reaching for the wine bottle anyway.

 

“Whatever with?” Aziraphale spared a glance to the demon who was glaring at a duck who was glaring back “really dear” he chastised, smile pulling at his lips. 

 

“I don’t trust ducks” Crowley thrust the bottle blindly towards the angel, he only noticed something was wrong when he was met with absolute silence, “Angel?” 

 

“You kept it” Aziraphale spoke like something had caught in his throat, a heavy but almost silent whisper. 

 

“I kept—“ Crowley was more than confused, for just a moment, before he turned round to see Aziraphale’s eyes glued to the daisy chain around his wrist.

 

“It’s been—well it’s been a year” Aziraphale’s soft lips pulled into a smile so full of endearment Crowley felt it prickle along his skin “oh my dear” he wrapped his hand around Crowley’s wrist before the demon could protest.

 

Crowley had to bite back any and all sort of noises that wanted to spill out of him as Aziraphale’s soft, slightly trembling, fingers skated across his skin. One hand moved, very suddenly but oh so gently, to intertwine with Crowley’s own. Fingers wrapping around fingers, thumb skating the back of Crowley’s cold hand. 

 

“I didn’t—it” Crowley attempted to defend himself before all his thoughts stopped, Aziraphale was running a finger in circles around his wrist-brushing against the daisy chain-painfully gently.

 

“It still looks—how has it not died?” Aziraphale spared a glance to Crowley, breath shallow and eyes blown wide, and offered a comforting smile.

 

“I—“ Crowley stuttered, willing his voice to be less hoarse “well I kept it, alive” he struggled, against the burning embarrassment in his chest coupled with the distinct comfort of the angels touch. 

 

“Oh you are—Crowley my dear you are so sweet” Aziraphale’s smile had doubled into an outright beam, almost blinding Crowley as he shrunk away from the angels words.

 

Sweet? He wasn’t sweet. He was a demon and so utterly in love with the angel in front of him that anything other than ‘you go too fast for me’ was instantly rejected as a fantasy. 

 

As if he could sense Crowley pulling away mentally Aziraphale held his wrist closer. Studying the skin at an alarmingly close range, “it-i didn’t—it was just-“ Crowley choked. 

 

“Why did you keep it?” Aziraphale asked, thumb circling the demons slender wrist.

 

‘Because anything you give me is more precious than any other stupid little thing in the world’  is what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t, instead he said “well it was our—first picnic and I-“ it wasn’t a complete lie “I wanted a souvenir”.

 

Aziraphale beamed, meeting Crowley’s eyes with something the demon couldn’t recognise in the slightest but it seemed so...warm. 

 

Crowley wanted to escape, he didn’t deserve that look, those eyes, that smile, That gorgeously warm expression. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve any of it. Not one single shred of the angels kindness should be reserved for him. A terrible thing, to waste kindness on a demon. He turned away, feeling embarrassed and wholly underserving and hideously scorched by nothing And everything. 

 

“Oh Crowley, do look at me dear?” Aziraphale tried, met with only a little shuffle of Crowley’s body. Aziraphale made a little noise of discontent before Crowley froze completely, feeling the chaste press of Aziraphale’s lips on his wrist. He turned, eyes wide and pooling, breath catching in his chest audibly. 

 

Aziraphale didn’t look up, he just pressed another kiss into Crowleys shaking wrist. The demon choked up a sort of half sound prompting Aziraphale to look up, “are you okay?” A tone of worry settled in the angels voice for a moment before Crowley managed to nod, a little frantically. 

 

Crowley almost growled as Aziraphale kissed the spot again, lips dragging against the pale skin, hand stroking circles into his shaking palm. He couldn’t move, he swore he had been stuck to the picnic blanket with some sort of force he couldn’t place. Perhaps it was the 6000 years he’d been waiting for Aziraphale’s lips on him but he didn’t want to think about that, not with Aziraphale’s lips on him. 

 

Finally and very very embarrassingly Crowley whined, actually whined, as Aziraphale’s tongue darted out to meet his daisy chained wrist “angel—“, 

 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale met the demons eyes and Crowley almost melted then and there, “should I sto—“,

 

“No” Crowley spoke quickly “no angel anything—anything but that”, 

 

“Good” Aziraphale smiled, watching as Crowley’s breath caught “Come here dear” the angel tugged at Crowley’s wrist and very suddenly Crowley felt that stab again. That stab of disgust and undeserving and Aziraphale’s eyes were too kind, they were too kind and they hurt.

 

Crowley’s thoughts stopped as a hand rose to cup his cheek, thumb rolling against his sharp cheekbone, “whats wrong dearest?” Aziraphale asked, voice soft and so caring Crowley felt a lump claw up his throat. 

 

“I—angel I don’t” Crowley looked down, watching a little ladybug traverse their picnic blanket “I don’t deserve you-this” he gestured to their picnic “any of this” 

 

“Sweet thing” Aziraphale cooed, pulling emotions from Crowley’s chest and planting them on the ground below, “whatever do you mean?” The angels other hand was still drawing circles on Crowley’s own and he couldn’t do anything but feel it and remember it and burn it into memory.

 

“You, angel—your so” Crowley almost choked a sob but caught himself, forcing the feeling further and further down “so good and I’m a demon and we’re—“, 

 

“Shshsh” Aziraphale cooed, scooting ever closer to the demon “no I won’t have any of that” the angel tutted “that won’t do”, Crowley gasped as a kiss pressed into his jaw, soft and sweet and so full of love “you deserve the world”, 

 

There’s a feeling, you get it after a long night with people you love, or when you return home from holiday to a long lost house, or when your awake for the sunrise, or when the angel you’ve loved for 6000 years kisses your jaw and says you deserve the world. 

 

Crowley felt it and he fell into it, pushing himself further toward the angel and planting their lips together in a messy kiss that was no less beautiful for it. 

 

Aziraphale felt like the sun, like feathers, like old books, like 6000 years of want, like warmth, like Aziraphale. 

 

Crowley could’ve discorporated then and there and he wouldn’t have minded. This feeling went away quickly as he heard Aziraphale whimper, hands gripping onto Crowley’s waist, he wanted to hear that sound forever. 

 

Aziraphale pulled away, panting and leaning his head on Crowley’s, eyes heavy as they found The demons. Crowley found that he couldn’t form any words, his lips were languid and stunned and burning a little but it was bliss. 

 

“Lovely thing” Aziraphale mused, regarding Crowley like he was lovely, it filled the demon with a sort of warmth that couldn’t be found in either heaven or hell. It snaked and settled in his stomach, reaching his toes and fingers and fizzing into sparks in the air. 

 

“Angel—“ Crowley croaked, a sob resting in his throat—it was too close to spilling out “Angel I—“ he tried again,

 

“Don’t tell me to stop” Aziraphale spoke quickly, emotion hiding in the corners of his voice “I don’t think I could”,

 

“Angel—“ Crowley spoke again, this time Aziraphale pulled away—concerned eyes tracing the demons face. 

 

He would stop, of course he’d stop. He’d stop and it would hurt so very much but he could never hurt the demon. 

 

“N-no Angel” Crowley pawed at Aziraphale’s coat lapels, pulling him into another kiss. This time it was a little more comfortable, slipping into a position they didn’t know existed till that very second, it was needy but it was soft and tender and quiet*. 

 

*A quiet kiss, Aziraphale would call it years later, a quiet kiss that was so deafening he could hardly breathe. 

 

Then Crowley sobbed, a choked noise settling on Aziraphale’s lips, clinging onto the angel in fear of falling a second time. 

 

“Dearest” Aziraphale cooed, pulling back a little as Crowley nuzzled into the crook of his neck, running his hand along Crowley’s shaking back. 

 

“Azira—“ Crowley choked “I—“ he twisted his arms around the angels neck and curled, in a very serpentine sort of way, into Aziraphale’s warm lap. 

 

“You can cry, my love” Aziraphale spoke softly, in a halve whisper, as Crowley sobbed “I’ve been awfully cruel”, his voice sounded heavier for a moment—Crowley disliked it so summoned all his strength to reply with more than a strangled sob this time. 

 

“It’s—you haven’t—what?” He realised he wasn’t making much sense,but presumed the angel would understand, as another sob clawed at his throat. 

 

“I’ve—I’ve wanted this-you-like this for” Aziraphale paused for a moment, mind drifting away to the night in 1941, feeling the wash of emotion he felt then just as well now. The shock as Crowley hopped into the church, risking his life for the stupid mess made by the angel. The wave of relief upon seeing his books, Crowley’s little demonic miracle, then the next wave of pure love and adoration. He couldn’t think properly for a long time, a mixture of him being a little more than stunned and a whole lot more than terrified, “for so, so long dear and I—I was scared and I didn’t say anything and I—“ Aziraphale stopped as his voice broke a little, he wasn’t going to cry-not when Crowley needed comfort. 

 

“How long?” Crowley nuzzled further into Aziraphale, the angel could feel the others lips moving against his collarbone. He could also feel tears, that weren’t his, drying on his skin. 

 

“The church” Aziraphale spoke hastily, fearing he’d send the demon running in the opposite direction, “when you-saved my books but I think, I’ve always felt-felt for you in a way I’ve—that I’ve never felt for any other” Aziraphale paused as Crowley shuddered, another sob breaking from his strained chest “dearest I’m so sorry” he ran a shaking hand through Crowley’s hair and felt the demon melt. 

 

“I’ve always felt—I could feel love from

You, I could and I was too scared I was so, scared” the angel deflated, fingers intertwined with Crowley’s ginger locks “if you can’t forgive me dear I understand I—“ Aziraphale’s rambling was cut short by a soft kiss feathered onto his collarbone, then another a little higher, then another and another and he could’ve sworn he discorporated as Crowley came to face him; tear stained and shaking but with a small smile pulling softly at his lips.

 

“I can always forgive you” Crowley sniffed “there’s nothing to forgive, you were scared and rightfully so” the demon leant forward to drop a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead as the angel Keened to the touch, Crowley paused for a moment before placing a soft kiss on his angels brow. 

 

He spoke again, voice strained against all the many feeling that had built up for 6000 years-and were only just seeing the sunlight, “I’ve loved you since Eden” He croaked, a whisper Aziraphale wouldn’t have been able to hear unless he was who he was.

 

“You? What?” Aziraphale pulled back, eyes wide in shock as they met Crowley’s-glassy and a little sad but so full with love Aziraphale might’ve melted. 

 

“You gave away that sword” Crowley hummed, fingers trailing across Aziraphale’s jaw “and I—“ his voice broke again, a tear dropping from his yellow eyes—glasses discarded some time ago. 

 

“Crowley” Aziraphale spoke for no reason in-particular as he swept the demons tears away with soft hands. 

 

Crowley’s fingers skated across Aziraphale’s jaw, taking in the soft feel of the angels skin and the hitch of breath as Crowley’s slender fingers stopped at Aziraphale’s lips, “say I can kiss you again” he pleaded, tracing the plump lines of the angels lips.

 

Aziraphale smiled, a watery sort of smile that buried itself in Crowley’s chest, before raising a hand to hold the demons wrist once more and pressing a soft kiss into the pads of his fingers. 

 

“Angel—” Crowley’s free hand curled around and buried itself in the angels soft hair, resulting in a satisfied hum and another kiss to the demons fingers. 

 

Crowley, having abandoned all hope of seeming cool calm and collected a while ago, let out a growl before crashing their lips together once more. 

 

This time the kiss was Hungry, no less loving, but 6000 years of want do one or two things to a demon. It stunned Aziraphale for a moment before he melted into it joyously. 

 

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley’s tongue ran across his bottom lip, the demon moving impossibly closer against him, one hand resting on the others thigh and the other still circling that daisy chained wrist. 

 

Ordinarily Aziraphale would’ve had qualms about this sort of behaviour in a public park. But he noted, as Crowley tipped his chin up to greedily claim the angels neck with little kisses and scrapes of teeth and  ‘oh good lord Crowley is that your tongue?’ , all the birds stood still and frozen in the air; the trees weren’t moving and nothing else but all of Crowley’s little sounds could be heard. 

 

He was very sure he didn’t do it, and almost certain Crowley couldn’t in the current predicament. He didn’t know who it was, he didn’t really have the thought process to care.

 

Whoever it was wouldn’t tell anyone this, as she made the earth stand still, but she was smiling down at them after 6000 long years of waiting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from ‘call me by your name’ because, obviously.


	7. School trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The them come to visit the angel and demon from the apocawasnt, they find the angel and a snake instead.
> 
> Or
> 
> In which Crowley’s grumpy and Aziraphale’s trying to miracle away biscuit crumbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a drawing I saw on Instagram a while ago, I have completely forgotten the artist if anyone knows the drawing I mean and can help me out id appreciate it as I’d like to credit them. 💖

London was, to Adam and the them, a very exciting place to be. There were big buildings and huge crowds and those big double decker buses only Pepper had seen before. They were all suitably excited, even more so when Adam suggested they visit the angel and demon they hadn’t seen since the apocawasnt. 

 

The angel was exceedingly pleased to see them, ushering them in and making sure there were biscuits and hot chocolate in abundance*. They piled onto the sofa, that was usually reserved for Crowley’s sprawling, whilst Aziraphale sat opposite.

 

*he was really really looking for an excuse to close the shop and this was perfect, seeing Adam and the them was very lovely too. They were a very agreeable group of children after all. 

 

They spoke of Tadfield, the apocanot, (“oh that’s a marvellous name for it adam, well done”) dog, the horsemen and the very burning Bentley. Adam had copious amounts of questions on god, on Satan, and on why he sneezes when he looks at the sun (“it makes no sense, it’s just the sun it doesn’t have...pollen”). Pepper asked if Aziraphale had any books by female authors, Aziraphale was happy to lend her some-they weren’t first editions. Wensleydale asked why god decided to make eye eyes because they are “really stupidly ugly”. Brian asked if Aziraphale had any ice cream, Aziraphale did but said he didn’t to save his sofa. 

 

He didn’t have an answer for all of it, but he tried his best. 

 

Adam was, save the time he tried to destroy the whole world, a very nice young man. He was polite, R.P Tylers opinion didn’t count, and kind and always tried his best not to ask too many untoward questions. But when he saw Aziraphale’s pocket wriggling, for the sixth time in two minutes, he couldn’t help himself. 

 

“Mr fell?” Adam eyed the angel in front of him a little suspiciously, “what’s that in your pocket?” He watched as Aziraphale looked to his pocket, a smile spreading across his face. 

 

“Aziraphale, please” He gleamed before reaching into his pocket “not to worry it’s only Crowley”. 

 

This was a strange thing for the them to hear, they had seen Crowley and he was tall and spikey and wouldn’t fit in that pocket even if he wanted too. They shared a look which was supposed to say ‘I’m almost certain a man couldn’t fit in that pocket’. Adam pulled a face as if to say ‘well he’s not a man is he, really, he’s a demon’. To which Brian pulled a face as if to express ‘I’m pretty sure he was still man shaped’, which prompted Pepper’s reply of‘this is all a bit silly, since when could anything past the size of a hamster fit in pockets anyway?’. 

 

Wensleydale didn’t say anything, or make a face as if to say something, as he was too busy watching a small, jet black snake wriggle in Aziraphale’s hands. 

 

“Oh come now” Aziraphale chastised “you cant sleep forever, we have guests, stop wriggling dear” he stroked the snakes small head and looked up to meet the wide eyed gaze of the them. 

 

The snake was, certainly, the most amazing snake any of them had seen. Adam had caught a grass snake once and peppers cousin had a pet corn snake, but this snake was far more magnificent. 

 

Yellow eyes squinting at the group, the snake wrapped himself around Aziraphale’s fingers, head resting on the angels pale wrist. 

 

“Woah!” Adam beamed “he’s so cool, I didn’t know your friend was a snake”, the boy stood up and stepped towards the little snake, watching as it licked the angels wrist every now and then. 

 

“If my friend was a snake that would be the first thing I’d tell everyone” Wensleydale peered, due to a minor fear of snakes, over Adams shoulder “does he eat mice?” His eyes flicked to Aziraphale’s for a moment. 

 

“No—well he doesn’t really eat” Aziraphale mused, turning his hand so Brian could get a better look “besides he is only a snake some of the time”, at this Crowley’s non existent eyebrow quirked. 

 

“The sssnake” He hissed, causing the group to gasp in unison and rush ever closer to the snake “I’m the ssnake, angel” he curled around Aziraphale’s thumb, sparing a glance at the delighted gaze of the children.

 

“It can talk” pepper marvelled “it can really, properly talk” She beamed.

 

“The snake? What does that mean?” Brian asked, chomping on a digestive Aziraphale had been trying to miracle away for fifteen minutes now—some biscuits can resist miracles.*

 

*digestives are really the ones to watch for but custard creams can be sneaky too. 

 

“He was the first snake, the snake that tempted eve to eat the apple in the garden” the angel watched the demon with interest as Crowley looked back. 

 

The children didn’t really know what to call to call that particular look but it felt like a lot of days and years piled on top of each other like old schoolbooks (“are they married?” “I should think so, looks like they are” “they didn’t have wedding rings” “it’s an angel and a demon who knows how their weddings work”).

 

“Woah” Adam murmured,

 

“Bit small, isn’t he?” Wensleydale furrowed his brows in the sort of way which made people believe he was a lot more clever than he was “shouldn’t he be big and scary?” He eyed Aziraphale with the question, 

 

“Sscary” Crowley hissed “I’m ssscary, I’ll sshow you ssscary” the snake turned and twisted in Aziraphale’s hand, eyes trained on Wensleydale who let out an audible gulp before Aziraphale pulled the snake back.

 

“No you won’t, you beast” the angel chided, scratching just the right spot on the snakes belly—Crowley very embarrassingly curled into Aziraphale’s hand almost instantly. 

 

“Your snake likes belly rubs?” Peppers brows furrowed in confusion “snakes don’t like belly rubs” she shook her head defiantly, having very much settled on the fact that snakes don’t like belly rubs at least three years prior when she met her cousins corn snake*. 

 

*bertie, the corn snake, did in-fact love belly rubs and tried to receive them to no avail. 

 

“I don’t know much about snakes, admittedly, but this one does” Aziraphale smiled down at his friend who seemed to smile back but it was hard to tell with a snake. 

 

Crowley shivered a little, twisting in Aziraphale’s hand as he shot the children a menacing look, before starting to grow. Their eyes widened in unison and Wensleydale leapt behind the sofa. 

 

Crowleys form shifted and he was no longer a tiny snake and was now as long as both of Aziraphale’s arms, which he was wrapped around quite snugly. Aziraphale tutted, a smile pulling at his lips “I will need my arms dear”,

 

“For what?” Crowley returned, somehow managing to grumble even as a snake, before twisting around the angels stomach and slithering up to rest his head on the crook of Aziraphale’s neck,

 

“We have guests” Aziraphale watched the children as they peered at the black snake, now adorned with shifting luminescent scales on its belly. 

 

“They don’t count” the snake snapped, a feat that Crowley was very proud of—it was extremely hard for a snake to snap. 

 

“Someone’s a grumpy snake today” Aziraphale teased, turning his attention back to the children “more biscuits?” 

 

“Is that why he’s a snake?” Adam asked, brows furrowed toward the pair, “is he only a snake when he’s grumpy?”,

 

At this the angel laughed, a sweet sort of sound that the children would later remark sounded a little like birdsong (“definitely sounded like a harp” “no no, your wrong it was like piano music” “your both wrong, it sounded like birds” “oh that’s right!”). 

 

“What do you think?” Aziraphale eyed the especially grumpy snake “hmm?”,

 

“I think” Crowley groused, raising his head for just a moment to grin at the children “they should be getting back to their  school trip” he watched with near elation as the children’s faces dropped.

 

“A school—oh dear lord, where are you supposed—are you supposed to be with your school?” Aziraphale exclaimed, shock and horror greeting him in equal doses.

 

“N—well, yeah” Adam replied sheepishly as Crowley chuckled “yeah but—“,

 

“No buts” Aziraphale looked more stern than Adam had seen him before and the boy tried very hard to not gulp “I’ll send back to them” the angel eyed them with a mix of ‘oh bother I’ve stolen four schoolchildren’ and ‘they bunked off a school trip to come and see us, how exciting! Oh we must be  cool ’. 

 

“Your too ssoft angel” Crowley gleamed from his very warm and very comfortable position “make them walk”,

 

“Make them?” Aziraphale spluttered “make them walk Crowley are you mad? Through London! In rush hour! Make them walk, preposterous” he chided, shooting Crowley a little glare to which the snake stuck out his tongue. 

 

“Right” Aziraphale retuned his gaze, as stern as he could make it, to the children in question “do you know where your class will be?” He asked.

 

“Yes” Adam nodded “the London eye”*

 

*Adam, in fact, didn’t know. But he assumed he and his friends would have a great time on the London eye, all whilst making it home in time for tea—so they did. 

 

“Right. Well, hold on tight” Aziraphale sighed, imagining the London eye—he and Crowley took a ride on it once and they’ve vowed never to go back*, “it was very lovely to see you all children, have a good trip” the angel couldn’t resist a bright smile and definitely couldn’t resist sending them back with extra sandwiches and ‘fizzy pop’ as he calls it. 

 

*turns out, Crowley doesn’t like heights. It also turns out, people on the London eye don’t like snakes. 

 

With a click the children were gone, leaving only biscuit crumbs and muddy foot prints. Aziraphale sighed happily, turning to the snake who was slithering back around his arm, “They bunked school to see us, should we be worried?”.

 

Crowley looked up at the angels furrowed brows and little worried frown, trying to fight a smile “nah, they’re not misssing much” he returned, nuzzling Aziraphale’s hand “take it as a compliment angel”.

 

“Oh” Aziraphale smiled, “alright then” he turned to Crowley for a moment “would you like to go for dinner dear?” He asked softly, the snake opening one eye to meet his own “or would you rather stay there for a while?”.

 

Crowley could feel A little warm feeling in his chest at the angels words. Adam was half correct as it turns out. when Crowley was grumpy he preferred being a snake, not because it was particularly cathartic in any way, but because he could very easily curl into the angels hand or laze about Aziraphale’s stomach, being able to tuck his head into the crook of the angels neck was also a bonus. 

 

Aziraphale was always very good with this, understanding of it*, so he was very good at allowing Crowley to do just that-for as long as he needed. 

 

*understanding meaning, not mentioning it as Crowley felt very embarrassed of this fact and would surely go to sleep for 500 years. 

 

“I think I’d like to sstay like thiss, if that’ss alright angel” Crowley hummed, tucking his head into Aziraphale’s sleeve. 

 

“Of course dear” Aziraphale smiled, he leant forward and picked up his first edition, before settling into the sofa. 

 

A little while later Crowley would ask him to read out loud, and he would be all too happy to oblige. 

 

He always was. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, you beautiful scoundrel you!
> 
>  
> 
> Comments keep me alive another day to feed my family, kudos help aswell. Love any constructive criticism, base model criticism makes baby Jesus cry.
> 
> Love you!


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